The sundown before the attack, I gathered up the courage to ask her; she appeared so much more intimidating during moonhigh. I instantly shook off that thought; she was a cub! How could I fear a cub?

“What are you thinking of?” I asked, berating myself for thinking that way. Fearing a cub. Hah.

“How the clan will do in the attack. Will we lose anyone?” She replied, but she sounded distant and thoughtful. It seemed as if...she wasn’t thinking of the clan. Troubled, I banished the errant thought to the back of my mind and lay down my head to sleep, to prepare for the attack.

The next sundown, the camp was alive with tense but excited wolves. Would we rid of the other clan once and for all? They asked. Will we show them that they’ve no place in the forest? Only Lostheart remained her usual self, calm and silent, except that instead of staring at the moon, she was staring in the direction we would take to attack the other clan. I saw her mouth moving, but she wasn’t talking to anyone. Curious, I crept closer.

“…Nightclaw, are you ready? We attack tonight…” Who was she speaking to? We had a Nightpelt, but not a Nightclaw.

“Who’s Nightclaw?” I asked. She whirled, instantly on guard.

“I was thinking aloud. But shouldn’t I be the one asking? Asking why you were eavesdropping?” So this is what she was like when she was bothered at moonhigh. Humbled, for she’d never spoken to me like that before, I slunk away after a short apology. Who was Lostheart, anyway? Where had she come from?

“Hey Granitefur, want to run with me?” Tornear called. I flicked my ear in his direction, accepting the invitation. All around the camp, wolves paired up, for a lone wolf was a blind cub against a pack. Although one could fight, the wolf would easily be overpowered.

“Ready?” Silverpelt called. A myriad of different calls came in reply. Soft barks, low snarls, high-pitched whining… Yes, we were ready. Too ready. “Let us go!” He hissed, and took off, with all but five wolves tailing him. Silently, we ran through the forest, the only sound the wind whistling through the trees, and the trees rustling. Lostheart rode on my back; her legs were too short to keep up with the speed we were going. We were confident we would win and drive the Longclaw clan out of the forest. But what we met was nothing we were prepared for.

Out of nowhere, a wolf, much larger than I, rammed into my side, sending me sprawling. Lostheart tumbled off, and in a heartbeat, was gone, taken. Suddenly, wolves dropped down onto us from above, taking down the rear of our group. When we’d recovered from shock, they were gone. Fleetshadow and Nightpelt, among others, lay dead, their necks snapped. Still, we pressed on. It was as if…they knew.

“Okay, so to fight, we – Oof!” Lostheart barreled into me at full speed, knocking me over. “Very good,” I complimented, “it’s as if you already know how to fight.” But…what if she did? She grew very still, her eyes unfocused. After a few heartbeats, she blinked.

“Sorry, I guess I was too excited.”

“That’s alright,” I said, barking a laugh, “that’s good. You’ll learn quickly.” I shifted into a crouch. “So here’s how to do it…”

A fortnight had gone by, and Lostheart had learned how to fight, how to hunt, and the way of life the Sharpfang clan. Only another sun had passed, and she knew every single member of the clan – that was thirty-odd wolves. Some thought of her as a stroke of luck, a prodigy. Others saw her as a threat. She learns too fast, they warned. Beware; she may seek to overtake the clan. But those who thought of her that way soon turned around.

“Granitefur!” Lostheart called. The morning ritual had just finished, and I was still drowsy. She strode over to where I lay, lugging a fawn behind her. “I can’t eat this, because it’s too big, but you can eat it.” She said cheerfully. I licked the top of her head.

“Thanks.”

Lostheart became a close friend and student. She was an excellent hunter, and she seemed to know a lot about strategy, for she took part in planning the attack on the other clan, pointing out the best way to attack when the terrain was unknown. She charmed the fur off many clan members, and had made friends with the entire pack. But when the sun fell, and the moon rose, she seemed to change from a young cub to someone five times her age. As she stared up at the moon, I always tried to guess what she was thinking of.

“Since, as you tell me, purebloods have magic, why don’t we use it to slow the attackers? That way, fighting will be easier for everyone, and the rival clan will be taken out faster.” Lostheart’s voice drifted with the wind, passing me as I got a drink from the river. She was extremely involved in planning, indeed.

“Great idea, Lostheart.” Silverpelt’s tone was proud. She was our prodigy, after all.

“Granitefur.” Fleetshadow had snuck up on me as I’d eavesdropped on the planning. I jumped, and he chuckled. “Listening, eh?” Embarrassed, I looked down. “It’s alright, he’ll tell it to us in a few moments.”

As soon as I’d returned to camp with Fleetshadow, my sister, Graniteheart, only a few winters older than Lostheart, bounded up to me. Her fighting spirit could equal ten other wolves, when she was worked up.

“Come on!” She whined, bouncing up and down. “He’s gonna start soon. You’re the last ones.”

“Alright, alright.” I muttered, and took a seat next to her and Fleetshadow. Silverpelt waited patiently on the Alpha’s perch.

“Fellow wolves of Sharpfang, in a few suns, we will drive out the Longclaw clan and take what is rightfully ours: the forest.” Murmurs of excitement spread throughout the clan. “Lostheart here—” Lostheart dipped her head, her expression unfathomable—“—she has greatly helped in the planning.” The clouds cleared, and the sun shone upon the camp, adding a lustrous gold to the silver of Silverpelt’s fur. “And here’s how it will go…”

Remember! Before you read this, read all other [Sentinel] posts (other than the first). You can find all of them by clicking the "sentinel" label on the left.

My posting policy is in the Prologue. Only two Anonymous posts will be accepted.

Thank you for reading! Ratings are also appreciated ♥

Silverpelt unleashed an ear-shattering howl, piercing the frozen winter morning. Gradually, as more and more wolves woke, they joined in, creating a long, unbroken howl. Lostheart was already wide awake by the time I opened my eyes, studying our Alpha perform the morning ritual. An answering howl erupted, far off in the distance, but it sounded disorganized and mournful, as if there was no Alpha to lead the other clan. Could that be the case? Curious, I watched Lostheart as she stared in the direction of the rival clan. Her almond eyes betrayed no emotion, not even curiosity. The premonition of imminent doom returned, and I tried without success to ignore it.

“Today is when we begin to plan our attack on the other clan. Those who have battle experience, follow me.” Silverpelt barked. Several wolves got up and followed him off his Alpha perch, a rock as tall as a wolf ten winters old, and into the forest, towards the river.

“Granitefur, don’t you have a duty to do?” Fleetshadow, five winters my senior, gazed at me from across camp, a good-natured glint in his eyes. Oh, right! I glanced over at Lostheart, who seemed lost in thought, staring in the direction of the soon-to-be-defeated clan.

“Morning!” I called to her cheerfully. She flicked her ear in reply, but her gaze did not waver. She seemed too mature for her age. Usually cubs a few winters old would be romping all over the place. Maybe the drugged food she’s been given had stolen her playfulness. Perhaps it was just me. “Today I’m going to teach you how to hunt.” I continued, somewhat relieved that I wouldn’t be dealing with an overactive ball of energy, but disturbed at the same time how she seemed like she was already fourteen winters old or something. As if she’d heard the thought, the side of her muzzle twitched, like she was hiding a smile. “Come here.” I called, shoving the thoughts to the back of my mind. It was only my imagination. It had to be.

“Coming.” Lostheart replied, and trotted towards me. I led her away, to the edge of the forest, where an endless stretch of grasslands awaited us. Unaware of the dangers downwind of them, deer grazed, oblivious. Hidden in the tall grass, I began to lecture.

“So you see… our clan can’t hunt like normal wolves, because one deer can’t sustain the entire pack. Fortunately for us, we have more than twice the strength and speed of a normal wolf, so our hunts are always successful, or else we’d go hungry a lot. On average, one wolf eats about four deer every seven suns, when the prey is abundant. Since there is another side to us, we can eat human food as well, but then we’d have to eat daily.” Lostheart nodded, seemingly alert, but when I looked a little more closely, I noticed that her eyes were unfocused. “Lostheart!” I barked. She blinked and looked up.

“Hmm?”

“Why do we need to eat so much?” I inquired, positive that she had not been paying attention.

“Our strength needs fuel.” Came the reply. So she was listening. I heaved a sigh, resigning myself to an unresponsive student, and continued.

The next sunrise, after the morning ritual, I showed Lostheart how to hunt. She watched, as still as a rock, ears oriented towards my prey, as I crouched, ready to spring after the oblivious herd of elk. When I returned with a young buck in tow, I found her playing with a terrified mouse. It scrabbled frantically to run, to survive, but her paws caught its tail, preventing escape. Her face was emotionless, unlike what any cub would be like when they had their first catch. I shook off the returning sense of looming disaster and asked,

“How’d you catch that?” She didn’t look up from her cruel game, and for a heartbeat I felt like the mouse. What was going on here?

“I watched you and decided t’try it out myself.” She murmured. Sunlight struck her pelt, giving it a lustrous glow; the sun had emerged from the clouds. It seemed to shine…silver. I blinked, shaking my head, and when I looked again, it was only a gleaming brown. Just a trick of the sunlight…

“Mice need different hunting tactics.” I replied, too disturbed to be surprised, suspicious, or even amused.

“I guess it was asleep then.” Lostheart lowered her head and snapped its neck. I stifled a shudder, feeling like the mouse again.

[edit2] WHY DOES MY FONT KEEP GETTING JACKED UP. AND I WON'T TAKE ANYMORE ANONYMOUS COMMENTS FOR THIS POST. THERE ARE ALREADY 2.

A cry for help coming from the river echoed off the moonlit trees. My clan was instantly on its feet, ready to help…or fight. Was it a trap?

“I’ll go,” Fleetshadow called, “sounds like a cub.” I watched as his black pelt disappear into the underbrush surrounding the clearing we camped in, reappearing a few heartbeats later with a brown-furred, brown-eyed cub hanging from his teeth. Its eyes wide with confusion and fear, the cub stared about the suddenly silent and tense camp. Then, one by one, the wolves relaxed and settled back down. Only our Alpha, Silverpelt, and Fleetshadow remained standing. Gently, Fleetshadow set the cub down and sat.

“I—I d’know. All I rememb’r is a box.” As soon as the cub spoke, it was clear she’d rarely had any contact with others of her kind. Her voice cracked slightly, meaning she’d barely used her voice, and she stumbled over some words, showing that she’d barely talked as well. “B—But b’fore that, I remember being given funny-smell’n food…” A low growl arose from the surrounding wolves; so she’d been drugged.

“Do you know your name?” Silverpelt asked.

“No…” The cub hung her head unhappily.

“Would you like to join the pack?” Mutters arose from the pack. I wondered what Silverpelt planned to do with this orphan. Her tail tip twitched, as if she was getting impatient.

“O-Okay…” Silverpelt stepped forwards and licked the top of her head.

“Then I, Silverpelt, Alpha of the Sharpfang clan, hereby name you Lostheart.” He looked around. “Who would like to teach Lostheart the clan’s way of life?” Impulse seized me, and I raised my voice.

“I will.” Lostheart raised her head to stare at me. What I saw nearly made me jump.

For a moment, Lostheart’s almond brown eyes had glowed ice blue.

I shook off the feeling of impending danger, telling myself it was only a trick from the moonlight. The little cub got up and padded over to me. From her size, she must have only been a few winters old.

“I’m Granitefur.” I murmured. “I’ll start teaching you the basics tomorrow. It’s almost moonhigh, so you should sleep.” Lostheart nodded, but she merely sat down and stared skywards. For awhile, I watched her gaze at the moon. How many times had she seen it? Was this her first experience outside? I wondered what she was thinking. From her expression, she was thousands of pawsteps away. Slowly, I dozed off, but not before hearing the rival clan howling mournfully in the distance.